Your World and Mine
by MNGstrikesback
Summary: What would happen if the LOST gang never landed on the island? What would their lives be like? Gosh I suck at this...full summary inside!
1. Chapter 1

_Your World and Mine_

Lils: So, this story is an idea based on a dream I had one night. It's actually pretty funny how all of this can come together…I mean, I didn't even think about making it a story before I talked to Jaye, who was real enthusiastic about the idea. Anyway, this story is our made-up account of what could have happened had none of the Lost characters gotten on the plane and crashed on the island! Including all of your favorite characters, and also a few original ones from me, most of them from my dream. Anyway, I've said enough, so I'll leave it up to Jaye now!

**Jaye: Ha, this is going to be so much fun! Yes, Lils dream sounded awesome, so we're starting this story! Yay! Funness! **

Disclaimer: We know we don't own Charlie or any of the other Lost characters, but we do own this plot, and the original characters within the story.

* * *

Chapter one: Initiation Assignment

Charlie Pace pulled into the parking lot and stopped his car. The hum of the engine died, and he sat and listened to the sound of the rain that was slamming down onto the roof of the car. He gripped the steering wheel, squinting through the dark, rain-splattered windshield at the club in front of him. Dim light burst through the many windows of the club, casting a sickly glow on Charlie's face. Finally he set the emergency break, which protested with a loud grinding.

"Oh, shut up," Charlie moaned as he kicked the door open and stepped out into the rain. He pulled the hood of his black jacket over his head and jogged up to the grimy walls of the building. He was thankful to get under the overhang, and pressed his face against the nearest window-wall. Sure enough, as he scanned the tiny facility, he saw a group of men collected in a large back booth.

He stood away from the window and stepped through the door, rolling his eyes at the bell that tinkled above him as he stepped inside. He looked around the club once more, and headed toward the booth at the back of the smoke-filled room. Loud music pumped in his ears, and he sidestepped a waitress that gave him a suggestive look. When he finally reached the booth in the back, he sat down heavily, sighing. "I hate this place," he said. "Why do we always have to meet here?"

With him sitting at the table, the group now consisted of four people. At the far end of the table, a rather large man with a tussle of blonde hair took up more than his fair share of the booth. Sitting next to him was a young man who was just as scrawny as the large man was wide. He had horrible teeth and lips that looked like he had grabbed the corners of his mouth and pulled, giving him an awkward, fish-like appearance. Next to him was a chap with his hands laced in front of him on the grubby table, his eyes distant. There were several empty bottles surrounding him.

"Stop your wining," he said, blinking slowly.

"Derk is right," said the fat man. "You're new. You'll get used to it."

Charlie frowned and tapped his fingers anxiously on the table, clicking his many rock-tour rings.

"Where's Levet?" he asked, feeling discomfited under the fat man's critical gaze.

"You mean Alec?" said Fish-Lips, grinning, showcasing his very few, gold-capped teeth. Charlie grimaced at the sight of them. "He's over there. Keeping watch. I swear, he's strange."

Charlie followed Fish-Lip's finger toward the opposite end of the club. He spotted a handsome young kid with long, disheveled brown hair that hung over his deep, thoughtful eyes. Levet was the youngest of the group, but he wasn't new, like Charlie was.

Actually Levet and Charlie had run into each other – literally, run into each other – on the street one day. They had had a bit of conversation before Fish-Lips had come marching around the corner, shouting curses after the unfortunate nineteen-year-old. Turns out Levet caused frequent trouble for the gang, first with trying to end it – Charlie discovered that had not gone over well – and then getting sucked into it.

"But, let's get down to business." The fat man's voice snapped Charlie's attention away from the sulking young man. **"You want to join us, right?"**

**Charlie nodded, hands shaking—whether from nervousness or his desperate need for a fix, he didn't know. "Yeah. What do I need to do?"**

"**Well," Fish-Lips said, that horrid grin still on his face, "first you need to be…initiated."**

**Charlie was starting to think that this was a bad idea. He had heard about gangs that had "initiations" that included cutting off people's fingers or shooting their mums with a water gun loaded with snake venom…or something like that. "Initiated?" he said, trying to act like he had no clue about what Fish-Lips had said. **

"**Yeah, git, initiated," the fat man sneered. "As in doin' somethin' to prove you're not bloody useless, and you won't snitch!"**

"**What kind of…initiation?" Charlie asked, biting his lip.**

"**Levet! Bring 'im in," Derk said in a bored voice.**

**Levet moved aside, giving Charlie a sad look as he did so, and letting in a young man who seemed to be around Charlie's own age. He walked quickly over to the table and slammed a picture down in front of Charlie. **

**Charlie picked up the snapshot and studied it. There was a beautiful young girl in it that had blonde hair that waved slightly, and blue eyes that seemed to smile at him. She had a hand rested on her slightly swollen stomach, and she was smiling shyly at the camera. Charlie tore his gaze from the picture and looked back up at the man in confusion.**

"**I…don't get it," he admitted, shaking his head slowly. "What am I supposed to do with this?"**

"**Not with the picture," the man said, shaking his head and glaring daggers at the photo. "To the girl."**

**Charlie's blood ran cold. Was he going to have to kill this young, happy looking woman? "Do what to her?" He must have asked it, though he couldn't quite remember doing so because of the shock. **

"**Make her fall for you," the man said slowly, looking at Charlie as if he were an idiot, "and then take everything she has from her."**

**Charlie's mind flashed to Lucy, how he'd done mostly the same thing…and then went wrong and fell for her as well. She'd tried to help him. And he'd stolen from her, and now she hated him. He swallowed, looking desperately toward the exit.**

"**Having second thoughts?" Fish-Lips leered at him. "You do realize that now you _have _to do it…because we can't just let someone go running on their merry way to the cops, can we, rocker boy?"**

**Charlie closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and then opened them again. "No…I'll…I'll do it," he said so softly that only he could hear. **

"**What was that?"**

"**I'll do it," he said, louder this time, though his voice shook. **

"**Good," the young man that had brought the picture shot. "She's going to some Astrology gig at this address next Monday at four-fifteen."**

**He scribbled down the address and shoved it at Charlie. Charlie gaped at it. "Sydney? Australia? I barely had enough money to get into this club, how'm I supposed to afford that?"**

**The man rolled his eyes and pulled two plane tickets out of his jacket pocket. "You're not—but you'd better pay me back."**

**Charlie reluctantly accepted the tickets—his last excuse had failed.** He felt panic rise inside him, and he felt his hands begin to shake uncontrollably.

"Heh." Fish-Lips gave him a look. "Look at him shake. Here." He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small black baggie. Charlie looked at it, then back up at Fish-Lips, not sure what to do or say. "Hey, we're friends now, remember? My fix is your fix."

"B-bathroom." It was all he could think of. Charlie stood up quickly, too quickly, and knocked over one of Derk's empty bottles. He rushed to set it back up, feeling all eyes on him as he did so, and wished that his fingers would hold still and cooperate. Finally Derk gave him a shove.

"Get outta here! And take your new girlfriend with you," he said, his sunken eyes glinting with laughter as he flicked the snapshot of the young blonde girl across the table. Charlie glared at him, and shoved the picture in his pocket, heading for the men's room.

Charlie heaved the bathroom door open and fell against the sink, his nose inches from the grimy, dirt-crusted drain. He tried the water, and decided he had better not touch it – it reminded him of genuine toilet water. Instead he tossed the black baggie back and forth between his hands, his eyes closed. He could still hear the music of the club pounding in his ears – a rhythmic, calming sound, reminding him of his band – before he really understood what he was doing, the baggie was untied and opened, and he was staring greedily down at the chalky powder in front of him.

Something inside him seemed to bloom at the sight of it, and he felt instantly relaxed, instantly relieved. Like parched flower that had finally received water.

"That stuff…it'll kill you."

Charlie whirled around, the flower bursting into flames. In its place stood a monster with ember eyes, and he was blinded by a sudden, frightening hatred. Through the monster's eyes Charlie saw Levet standing against the door. His head was leaned back, but his long brown hair still lay over his eyes. His long, pale face showed nothing but distaste.

"What do you know?" Charlie's monster snapped viciously. "You're just a kid."

"Like that matters?"

It looked as though Levet wasn't going to back down, and at that moment, Charlie hated every inch of him…or rather, Charlie's monster did as it clutched the baggie of sweet heroin in its claws. Levet stuck his hands inside his gray jacket, seemingly unafraid of the thing that was standing in front of him.

That was what Charlie liked about Alec Levet. He would stand in front of anyone. Even Derk or Fish-Lips, and on more than one occasion, in front of Doug Manson – the fat guy in the booth – the head of the gang. For that Levet had of course been punished, and although he kept quiet about it, Charlie couldn't help but wonder what had become of Levet's family after Manson had been through with him…But the monster despised young Alec now, and Charlie's own admiration was quite forgotten.

"What do you want?" it hissed. Somehow Levet stayed collected, apparently immune to the venom the monster had spat at him.

"I'm going with you to Sydney," he said.

"_What_?"

"To Australia. You're not leaving me here with them…"

"Come on, you're a big boy. You can handle it." The words were out before Charlie could stop them. A silence fell between the two, a silence that Charlie furtively regretted. He knew Levet turned to him, and now he had just slammed him down…reminding himself of something Derk would do.

The music pounded in the background, the monster slowly fading away. Charlie tied up the baggie and stuck it into his pocket, then he pulled himself up and sat on the sink. "You really wanna come?" he asked.

"Yeah." Charlie could tell Levet was trying hard to keep the excitement from his voice.

"You think Manson'll let you go?"

"He can't tell me what to do."

There it was again. Levet was fearless, while Charlie could barely stand to look at the gang-leader in the eyes.

"Okay," he said simply, clapping his hands.

"Okay?"

Then something happened. Alec smiled, the only time Charlie had ever seen him do it, and he smiled back. And then someone knocked on the door. Levet jumped and pulled the rusty door open, his smile disappearing instantly when he saw Fish-Lips standing across from him.

"What happened to Charlie? He didn't pass out, did he?" He was shouting over the throbbing of the music.

**"I'm right here," Charlie said, shoving his still shaking hands into his hoodie. "And no, I didn't pass out."**

**_Yet, _he added silently.**_ **Don't count on it staying that way.**_

"**I'm going with Charlie," Levet said bluntly. "He needs a cover for being in an astrology class without knowing anything about it."**

**Fish-Lips stared at him. "Charlie can get a book—you _can _read, can't you?"**

"**I'm a druggie—not an illiterate!" Charlie shot, forgetting himself. "Of course I can read!"**

"**So you're not as much as a push over as we thought, eh?" Fish-Lips sneered.**

**Charlie fell silent. Levet looked from him to Fish-Lips and then back to Charlie. Levet closed his eyes and shook his head.** Fish-Lips laughed through the tension. "Come on, Pace. Let's have one last party before you have to go."

Charlie was on the verge of agreeing. He wanted to say, "Yeah!" and then run out into the middle of the club to drink the night away, but something in Levet's gaze stopped him.

"What about the kid?" he asked slowly, unsurely, feeling insignificant as Fish-Lips looked at him in surprise, like an ant under a microscope, about to get fried by the sun.

"What about him?"

"He's coming with me, isn't he?"

Fish-Lips smiled his awful, stretchy smile, and Charlie realized for the first time how drunk he must be.

"Sure, what ever, Pace. Now come on!"

He grabbed Charlie's wrist and towed him from the bathroom, out into the middle of the club. A drink was thrust in his hand and he took it, suddenly feeling light and at ease. As the night went on, the party intensified, making it so that Charlie could barely move for the all the people around him. He took more drinks without question, kissed a few girls, and swayed to the music that pounded in his ears. Soon the lights seemed to dim, and the music became a dull throbbing. Everything seemed to slow down.

Charlie looked down at the drink in his hands and finally stopped moving. His stomach lurched and he suddenly felt like he weighed nothing. People around him laughed and screamed and danced, but it seemed as though his world had stopped. He felt his feet slip out from underneath him and then his head hit the floor.

* * *

The next thing he knew he was lying against the hood of his car, his shirt soaking with sweat and his stomach churning painfully. He opened his eyes and squinted as light burst into his head, his skull cracking in two, or so it felt like.

"Oh…" he moaned. He felt like he was going to be sick…He pressed his fingers into his eyes, shivering as the pain intensified, and then slowly died away. As he lay there he began to put things together. Slowly, agonizingly, last night's meeting came back to him. He remembered the word "initiation" and then he remembered the picture that was folded in his jacket pocket. He reached down and pulled it out, holding the directly above his eyes. He saw a young woman with wispy blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes smiling at him, and then he remembered something else. Charlie reached into his pocket once again and lifted two plane tickets beside the snapshot of the pretty young woman. They said Sydney, Australia, although he couldn't remember exactly why…

"Oh look, he's awake!"

Charlie jumped and shoved the snapshot and the tickets back into his pocket. Then he rolled off the hood of his car, landing in a heap on the damp asphalt. He looked up and saw Fish-Lips standing above him, looking rather more smug than usual. "Hell of a night, Pace. You feeling that hangover? You look a mess. Here, let me help you."

Charlie reached up and grabbed Fish-Lip's hand, and was pulled quickly to his feet. The effect was so dizzying he nearly fell over again, but before he could even do that, Fish-Lips had grabbed his hoodie and shoved him up against the passenger-side window. "Now listen. You have four weeks to be through with this job, Pace. Four weeks, you understand?"

Charlie nodded slowly, his fearful reaction somewhat subdued. Fish-Lips pressed him harder against the window. "If you don't get this done Manson'll have to deal with you, and believe me Pace, you won't want that."

**Charlie slurred, "I'll do it…four weeks…okay."**

**Fish-Lips dropped Charlie onto the asphalt, and said once more, "Four weeks, Pace. That's all you get—and not a sodding minute more."**

**Levet opened up the driver's side door and climbed in. **

"**What'choo doin'?" Charlie asked, dazed, standing up shakily.**

"**Look, man, you're too drunk to be driving. You can't finish this job if you're dead," Levet said simply.**

**Charlie shrugged. "Yeah, whatever…"**

**He got in the back seat and lied down, a hand over his aching eyes. Fish-Lips slammed the door, and mouthed "Four weeks!"**

**Levet started the car and backed it out of the parking space, looking over his shoulder and through the cracked back window.**

"**God, Charlie, where'd you get this pile of junk?" he asked. **

"**I got it for my seventeenth birthday…" Charlie muttered. "It's been mauled by fans."**

**Levet raised an eyebrow as he pulled out of the parking lot, but said nothing else.**

"**And its been in a few…accidents," Charlie elaborated. **

**Levet shook his head. "Were you high during those 'accidents'?"**

**Charlie uncovered his eyes, sat up, and met Levet's eyes through the rear-view mirror. "Whazzat matter?"**

**Levet sighed. "Nothing."**

"**You know, you don't act like you're nineteen," Charlie slurred.**

Levet gave him a thoughtful look and stepped on the gas.

"Where's your place?" he asked.

"My what?"

"Your place," Levet repeated, turning sharply. "You've got to get your stuff before we can head for the airport."

"Whoa – " Charlie sat up, his head spinning. "We're leaving today?"

"Yeah." Levet came to a stop at a stoplight. Charlie ran a hand down his day and a half's worth of facial stubble, sighing. His stomach grumbled unpleasantly. "You heard Deloach, didn't you? You have four weeks or…"

"Or Manson'll get me. Big deal…what's he going to do to me? Put a hoarse head in my sheets?"

Levet's brow furrowed and his lips tightened, but he didn't say anything more until the light turned green. "Where's your place?" he asked again.

"Not mine," Charlie mumbled. "Liam's."

"Whose?"

"My brother's. Stop by there."

Charlie gave Levet instructions and then lay back down, feeling worse and worse every time the car went over a bump. He knew the suspension was crummy, but couldn't help but feel angry and frustrated. He stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling the snapshot and plane tickets…and also the little baggie Fish-Lips had gifted him with. A smile curled around his lips.

Then the car came to a puttering stop. Levet ground the emergency break in place and pushed the door open with difficulty. Then he came around to Charlie, who was sitting up slowly, concealing the baggie back inside his pocket. He figured Levet thought that maybe he had left it at the club. Charlie quickly opened his door and leaned out into the driveway.

"This is it," he said, looking up with jealousy at his brother's fine, modern house. "I have a…a guest room here with some stuff in it for me to pick up."

Levet said nothing, only nodded, staring at the house as well. "And I need a shower," Charlie added as he walked up onto the threshold, pausing with his fingers only inches away from the doorbell. He took a deep breath and pressed the button, listening as the bell rang throughout the inside of the house.

The door opened after a few uncomfortable seconds that felt like hours going by.

"Charlie!"

"Liam."

Liam Pace stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with pleasurable surprise. Charlie was suddenly conscious of his matted hair, stubbly face, and overall junky appearance. He scratched his chin, mustering up a smile.

"What are you doing here, lil' bro?" asked Liam, still smiling warmly even though Charlie was a mess. Then, thankfully, his gaze lifted and he looked behind Charlie's shoulder at Levet, who had been standing quite still, his face unreadable. "And who's this?"

"His name's Levet," Charlie explained, eager to step into the air-conditioned interior of his brother's house. "Mind if we come in? I just need to pack some things…and maybe take a shower or something…"

"Out all night, were you?" Liam said, his smile wavering for the first time, but nevertheless he stepped aside, allowing Charlie and Levet to enter over the doorstep.

**"Eh…yeah," Charlie said.**

"**Well…come on in. You too…Levet?"**

**Levet nodded, and the two of them stepped into the house. **

"**Uncle Charlie!" a young voice yelled. A small blonde girl ran up to Charlie.**

"**Hey, Meggie!" Charlie smiled, hugging his three-year-old niece. "How's my favorite niece?"**

**Levet stared at the small girl with a sad look on his face, a flash of pain going through his eyes, before he covered it up again.**

"**Uncle Charlie, where were you?" Megan asked, smiling up at him.**

"**Yeah, I'd like to know that too," Liam said, frowning slightly.**

"**I was at a friend's house, Meg," Charlie said, ruffling her hair affectionately. Liam didn't seem to buy it, but he let it pass. "Hey, bro, I'm gonna go and take a shower, that okay?"**

"**Huh? Oh, yeah, go ahead," Liam answered, nodding. Charlie walked up the stairs and took a left to get to the bathroom.**

**Liam and Levet were silent for a moment. Liam sighed, and turned his gaze to his daughter who was looking at him with such innocent blue eyes. "Meg? Can you go to mummy for a minute?"**

**Megan nodded and skipped out of the room. **

"**So," Liam said after he heard the door to his and Karen's bedroom shut. **

"**So you're Liam?" Levet asked, messing with a loose thread on the edge of his shirt. "Charlie talks about you a lot…"**

"**Mostly bad?" Liam mused.**

**Levet looked up, surprised. "No," he said. "Nothing bad. He's always raving about how great you are, and how you're better to him than he deserves. The only negative thing he's said was when he got really, really high…he said that you got him started on the drugs."**

**Liam frowned. "He's still using? Are you?"**

**Levet shook his head. "I wouldn't pick that up if it were the last substance on the planet. Not after what happened to me because of it. I've been trying to get Charlie to stop."**

"That's good. Me too." Liam's voice sounded tense, as though even the thought of trying to talk his brother out of such a strong addiction made him flustered.

* * *

Meanwhile, Charlie stepped under the water pouring out from the showerhead. Steam rose about him as he let the water hit his forehead, his eyes closed. It was amazing how something as simple as a shower could make him feel so…renewed. The smell of the club vanished, as did the caked residue left on his skin, all that to be replaced with a wonderful-smelling shampoo.

Charlie twisted the water off, shook his head, and wrapped himself in a towel. He stepped from the shower and faced his old clothes. They still smelled of smoke and alcohol, but he put them back on anyway, shrugging. He could deal with it. He looked over his shoulder and flipped on the fan, letting the steamy air swirl around him…but more importantly, the fan acted as a cover as he quickly pulled out the black baggie in his pocket.

A few minutes later he emerged from the bathroom, looking better, smelling reasonably better, and feeling measurably happier now that he had had his fix. Charlie looked around the house for a few moments before stepping into the kitchen to find Liam and Levet sitting at the table, with what looked like coffee in their hands.

"I didn't know you liked coffee," he said, taking a seat next to Levet, who shrugged, and fiddled with the curved handle of his cup.

"Levet tells me you two are shipping out," said Liam. "Where to?"

"Erm…nowhere far…just…Australia. Sydney, Australia."

Liam's eyes got big in his head. "Sydney," he repeated. "Why?"

"To do…stuff," Charlie said, beginning to get irritated. "It's a band thing. But you wouldn't know, would you?"

At this, Charlie's brother looked hurt. A silence fell over them. Finally, Charlie cleared his throat and pushed his chair away from the table. "I'm going to go…pack," he announced, and left the kitchen as fast as he could. He followed a hallway up to a flight of stairs and climbed them, arriving in front of a door. He pulled it open, but when he tried to pull it shut behind him, he found he couldn't. "Levet. Get outta here."

Levet held his ground.

"You've had the baggie all along, haven't you?"

"What are you, my mum?"

"No. But he's your brother, and this is his house."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Charlie stalked past the four-poster bed and headed for the closet.

"You tell me."

Charlie didn't look back at him. He kept his gaze concentrated on the assortment of shirts hanging on the rack at the top of the closet. He grabbed the nearest one and tossed it over his shoulder, onto the bed.

"He's my brother," he grumbled finally. "And I can lie to him if I want. He lied to me and…and that's how this all started." Charlie threw another shirt over his shoulder. This one missed the bed. Without speaking, Levet bent down and picked it up.

And thus went packing. Charlie tossing random shirts, pants, and other necessities over his shoulder and Levet packing them into a suitcase found under the bed. They were done in little over ten minutes, and when Charlie had secured the last of the locks on the bag, they stood and faced each other.

"Let's just…get some things straight, okay?" Charlie felt the Heroin Monster creep up inside him. "You are not the boss of me. I do what I want. _He_ lied to me. _He_ was the one with the heroin in the first place…" He pointed accusingly at the closed door. "So don't think you can tell me what I can and can't do."

Charlie stared at Levet, who looked oddly out of place standing between Charlie and the door that had obviously represented Liam. Heroin Monster growled, and Charlie marched toward the door. "We should get going – "

"Uncle Charlie?"

**Charlie tensed, silently cursing himself. "Yeah, Meggie?"**

"**What's heroin? And why did daddy get it?" Megan asked, her small face filled with confusion.**

**Charlie sighed. "Nothing, Meggie…It's nothing…"**

**Megan looked at him, and Charlie felt sad when he realized that even this little, three-year-old girl could see right through him. **

**Charlie walked back down to the kitchen, Levet trudging after him, followed by Megan, who was asking him many questions. **

"**What's your name?"**

"**Alec."**

"**Where do you live?"**

"**In Manchester."**

"**My daddy said that my mummy's sick because she's going to have a baby!" Megan's face glowed. "I'm gonna be a big sissy! Do you have a sister?"**

**Levet closed his eyes. "Yes. I do."**

"**What's her name?"**

**Charlie seemed to have finally caught on to the pained look in Levet's eyes. "Hey, Meggie, I'm gonna have to go now okay? I'll see you soon, okay?"**

**Megan looked sad. "Oh…okay Uncle Charlie. I love you!"**

**Charlie smiled sadly, messing up her hair again. "I love you too, kid. Hey, Liam, we're leaving, all right?"**

**Liam looked up from his spot on the couch, where he was reading a book. "Okay," he shrugged. "If you need anything…you can call here."**

"Sure." Charlie stuck his hands in his pockets and wavered in the doorway. "Yeah, okay. So…we'll just be going."

"Alright." Liam pulled the book back up to his face. "If you're ever in town again by yourself, Alec, don't be shy to stop by and pay us a visit. I think Meggie enjoys your company."

Levet shrugged, clearly a little confused, giving the impression that he was not used to everyday, conversational manners.

"Okay," he said finally, and turned to Charlie, but Charlie was waiting for something. He wasn't exactly sure what, but it was like something was missing. And then, suddenly, it dawned on him: Liam wasn't on drugs anymore. He had cleaned himself up – made a life for himself – gotten a family. Charlie was missing that. A family…a life.

Feeling distant, he reached for the door and opened it, stepping out into thelatemorning sunlight.

* * *

**END OF CHAPTER**

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**Jaye: Well, there's the first chappie… Hee this is fun too… **

Lils: All right…so, as I'm sure you've noticed, this story is going to be a lot different than our others. It's…darker, in a way…with new characters and an ever-twisting plot line. But you know, we won't update without reviews…so REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2

PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTE : VERY IMPORTANT!

Lils: Hey, so…first, I must apologize! Jaye and I forgot to introduce to you new readers our little arrangement! Okay, so, where to start? First off, MNGstrikesback is Jaye's and mine's split fanfiction account. We're best friends but we live in different states now after Jaye moved. We love writing, so we decided why not write stories together?  
In our stories, the normal font represents me – Lils – and my writing. You see, I'll write a few paragraphs, and then I'll send the story over to Jaye.  
Jaye's paragraphs are the bold print. We do this so you can see and enjoy our unique writing talents, plus it's just fun.  
So now, hopefully you're all filled in, and because most all of the reviews were asking that same question, I guess I've pretty much replied to you all, but thanks for reviewing anyways!

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Chapter two: Emergency Visit

"Hang on…what about your luggage?"

Charlie and Levet were once again seated inside Charlie's shabby sedan, Levet behind the wheel, and Charlie occupying the passenger's seat. They hadn't spoken since they had left Liam's house, each of them keeping their eyes on the road, watching street signs and traffic lights go by. The morning outside was brightening quickly, the last of the puddles from the previous night's rain slowly evaporating into the air.

Charlie tapped the steering wheel. "You have clothes to pick up, don't you?"

"Yeah." Levet didn't take his eyes off the road, even though they were presently stuck behind an extremely slow red light, with a rusty old Ford in front of them, fumes puttering into the air from the truck's worn-out exhaust system.

Charlie noticed that Levet had been acting out of the ordinary, but couldn't quite place why. His mind was still light and airy, the Heroin Monster gleeful after his last fix.

"Well you can't go off to Australia without any kit, can you? Where's your place?"

"Here."

Charlie looked up through the top of the dusty windshield. They had finally pulled around the truck and the traffic light, and had parked in the lot of a towering apartment building. The structure itself was in desperate need of renovation. Most of the windows were blocked by huge, rusting air-conditioning systems. The bricks of the edifice were faded and chipped, the whole place looking forlorn, forgotten by time. He suddenly felt sorry for Levet, and couldn't help but wonder, once again, what had happened to his parents…if he had ever had any. Charlie didn't know much about Levet…only what he had heard from the gang – mostly Fish-Lips – and that wasn't very much.

Charlie stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. He followed Alec across the damp lot, and up to the entrance of the complex. He watched as Levet pulled out a room-key and shoved it into the door lock. He had to jiggle it a few times before the lock clicked, and then he had to throw all of his weight against the thick green door to get it open.

"It's not much," he said as they walked inside. Levet must have noticed that Charlie was staring around the place – at the grimy white tiles and peeling wallpaper. There were many hallways, each of them lined with the same thick green doors. "But it beats having to stay with Derk and the others."

Charlie didn't say anything. He couldn't. Levet led him down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, down another hallway, and stopped in front of an identical green door that had the number "34" in faded gold lettering. Getting into the room was equally as trying as getting into the complex, but finally after a few moments of rattling the key, the door swung open.

There was no carpet. Just the same white tile that spread out and over to the walls, which were bare and white. A single rug lay under a sofa that sat in front of an old television set that had tinfoil wrapped around the antennas. Behind the "living room" was the kitchen. A space that consisted of a fridge, sink, stove, oven, and countertop. "No microwave," Levet mumbled as he threw the keys on the counter and headed to a thin hallway. There was a white door at the end of this, and behind it, a bedroom with a tiny, walk-in bathroom. Levet bounced over the bed and to the side of the room that held the closet. From there, he started shoving random articles of clothing into a hard-covered suitcase.

Charlie sat on the bed and watched, still unable to speak. He focused on a crack in the wall, and jumped when someone pounded on the door outside the bedroom. Levet looked up and groaned.

"Smith, you in there?"

Charlie looked curiously at Levet.

"What do you want?" the nineteen-year-old shot back.

"Your rent!" the angry voice outside the door shouted. "You haven't paid yet, and the deadline's tomorrow. If I don't get the money, Smith, you're outta here, you got that?"

"Yeah, yeah…fucking landlords…" Levet stood up and walked from the bedroom. Charlie followed.

**"Smith?" Charlie asked.**

"**None of your—" Levet started. He shook his head. "Never mind."**

The pounding on the door continued, the rumbling voice outside grower louder and more persistent. Levet threw open the door, casting Charlie a glance that he couldn't exactly understand. Then he looked past Levet and saw why the kid seemed so put out.

Standing in the entryway was a man that resembled, to Charlie, a mole. He was quite round, with pudgy legs, arms, and fingers. His clothes were ill fit and dirty, his chunky face protruding directly from his collar, with no trace of a neck. The man's nose was sharp, his eyes merely slits below his heavy brow. When he spoke his voice was deep and furious, his cheeks and many chins rumbling. He started shouting instantly.

"ABOUT TIME! YOU KNOW, I HAVE BEEN SENDING YOU WARNING AFTER WARNING SMITH AND YOU _STILL_ HAVEN'T SENT IN YOUR RENT!"

Charlie cringed. He saw Levet do the same.

"AND WHAT'S ALL THIS BUSINESS ABOUT?" It seemed that the fat man in the doorway had seen Charlie. "THAT'S DOUBLE THE CHARGE, YOU KNOW! I SHOULD HAVE YOU EVICTED! AS A MATTER OF FACT, I THINK I WILL!"

"You won't have to worry about me any more, Mr. Morton. After today, I'm gone!" Levet said.

"Well I certainly hope so," Mr. Morton said, pulling at his shirt collar. "But you still owe me this month's – "

Charlie sensed it was time to go. He lifted Levet's suitcase in the air.

"Uh…excuse me," he said. "You probably know me, I'm Charlie Pace, bass guitarist for DriveSHAFT – well of course you've heard of me – "

Mr. Morton stiffened and said, "Yes, I'm sure you are." He brushed Charlie away like he was some sort of bothersome fly. "Smith, I really don't want to put out a warrant, but at the rate things are going…"

Levet grabbed his suitcase from Charlie.

"Look. Morton. Take the apartment. Take everything in there right now. You'll never see me again."

Morton puffed up. He was screaming again.

"NOT WITHOUT MY RENT!"

Charlie felt a headache coming on. He looked desperately at Levet, who finally gave in. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tattered billfold, shoving it at the now blotchy landlord, who took it greedily, finally moving from the entryway.

"Nice doing business with you, Mr. Smith," he said cheerfully. Charlie had a feeling that what he was holding in his hand was the last drops of Levet's money. "Hopefully we'll never meet again. Good luck in – where ever you're going!"

Then Levet buffeted Morton out of the way with his suitcase and set off down the hall, shoulders hunched. Once they were out on the street, he said, "Let's get out of here."

"Hey, hey…what was that about? A warrant?" Charlie trotted after him. "Levet. Why didn't you tell me? You could have stayed – "

"Forget it." Levet popped the trunk of Charlie's car and dropped his suitcase inside. "Let's head for the airport. You drive."

* * *

**Levet and Charlie sat on the plane, Charlie drumming his fingers on the seat, and Levet flipping through a ripped up paperback copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring. _Charlie took several deep breaths. He wasn't that great of a flier.**

"**S'matter, son?" a Southern voice laughed at him from across the aisle. Charlie turned his head and stared at the man with long blonde hair.**

"**What?"**

"**Wha's wrong with you?"**

**Charlie stared at him. _What the sodding…? _"Nothing that I care to share with a perfect stranger."**

**The Southerner smirked. A young, blonde woman sitting next to him smacked him. "Leave 'im alone, Sawyer. Whaddid he do to you?"**

"**The way you act, Sticks, you shouldn't be talkin'," the man, Sawyer, shot back.**

**The woman sent him a death glare and turned away. Charlie blinked, then looked back towards Levet. "How much longer do you think we're going to be on this…thing?" he asked.**

**Levet looked up at him. "Charlie, we just took off. It's gonna be about six hours."**

**Charlie gave him a pained look, and somehow Levet seemed to know what he was thinking. "You're just going to have to do without, mate."**

**Charlie slumped back in his chair, his leg bouncing. Levet raised an eyebrow, but shook his head and went back to his book. **

Charlie, a little shaken by his conversation with the southern man across the aisle, sighed deeply and impatiently. He tried reading the little magazine stuck in his seat, but that turned out to be about emergency procedures, which only made him more nervous. He tossed the magazine away and tried looking out the window.

They seemed to be in between two layers of clouds. One was below the plane, and was gray and flat. And out on eye-level Charlie could see great plumes of white. They seemed surprisingly solid, like you could sit on them – _thrones or something_, he thought – but then the plane would fly right through one, still climbing. Soon, when he straight up through the window, he could see a patch of dark blue. The closest he had probably ever been to space. He had read somewhere that these big jets flew high. Really high. He gulped.

Charlie looked at Levet's watch, frowning as it showed that only two hours had gone by. He slumped back in his seat, once again tapping the armrest relentlessly.

About an hour later some flight attendants came by taking orders for dinner, and asking the passengers what they would like to drink. He and Levet both ordered the chicken dish, Charlie somewhat disappointed when it came back in one of those plastic-wrapped trays. He made a comment about them reminding him of TV Dinners. Afterwards his stomach began to disagree with what he had eaten.

"How much longer, mate?" he asked for the up-tenth time.

Levet sighed.

"I have to get off this plane soon," Charlie went on, grimacing as his stomach tightened.

"We should be there in less than an hour, okay?"

Moping: "Okay."

"Just…try to relax. Go to sleep for a while," Levet offered.

"Stop acting like a parent," Charlie replied angrily, his fingers tapping now faster than ever. Heroin Monster was hungry, and his mood was getting worse. He hit the back of his seat with his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

Finally the little red button above his seat flashed on. Fasten Seatbelt. The pilot came on the intercom system, announcing that they were beginning their final decent into Sydney, Australia.

"**FINALLY," exclaimed Charlie. Levet shook his head, smiling slightly.**

"**You really don't act your age, you know that?" he said.**

"**Oh, like you do?" Charlie retorted. Levet fell silent, something in his expression making Charlie wonder, not for the first time, how Levet had gotten to be how he was today. How he – the sensible nineteen-year-old – had ended up in a gang of…thugs and druggies. **

**Neither spoke again until the plane landed and they were grabbing their luggage. Charlie grabbed his off the luggage-check-machine and hefted it into the air. "ARG!" he yelped as he fell over from the sudden weight. "BLOODY 'ELL!"**

**The Southern man and "Sticks" walked past and snickered as the flustered ex-rock star struggled back to his feet. Charlie turned bright red. "What're you snickering at?" he snapped.**

**Levet looked skyward at Charlie's childish retort. "C'mon, Charlie, just ignore them. We have reservations at a hotel…and if we aren't there in…" he checked his watch, "in twenty minutes, they're giving the room to someone else." **

**Charlie gave the blonde people a dirty glare, and then followed Levet out of the airport, grumbling angrily, hands shoved into the warm pockets of his hoodie. **

**

* * *

**

**Charlie looked around the hotel room in disbelief. He had been expecting a broken mattress, a leaky toilet, and cockroaches…this was definitely better. There were two twin beds, neatly made up with fresh, clean white sheets. There was a TV, a VCR, and a CD player/radio/clock. "Man!" **

**Charlie dumped his bags done on the side of the bed on the left, and then collapsed onto the said bed. He sighed contently. **

**Levet shoved his bag up in the luggage rack in the closet. He rummaged through his messenger bag, pulled out a book, and tossed it at Charlie. "Read this…it's about Astrology."**

**Charlie, who had been smacked in the face by the book, groaned. **

**"Joy."**

**Levet shook his head. "Charlie, you got yourself into this…just be careful, and don't act like you know nothing about Astrology once we get there."**

"**What are you, my mum?"**

"No." Levet reached for the remote and flipped on the television. Charlie sighed and turned the book over, gazing at the cover. There was an array of stars on the front. He stuck his finger into the book's crisp pages and stared at the words on the page. He never really read the printed letters; instead they whirled around inside of his mind, too quickly for him to focus.

And then it hit him.

It was as though someone had reached up and pulled the veil from his eyes, and he had the impression that he was going to throw up. He gazed up at the cottage cheese like ceiling above his head, blinking back shock. There he was in Sydney, Australia, with no idea what to do.

The conversation he had been through in the nightclub seemed incredibly distant, like it had happened years ago and to someone else.

But then he also realized that he was trapped. He blurrily remembered he had two weeks…two weeks, or else. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out the snapshot of the young woman he would be meeting soon. As he gazed at her, an unexpected pressure laid itself on his chest. He coughed, and looked up. Levet was standing in front of his bed, twirling his hat in his hands.

"What?" Charlie snapped, slipping the picture back into his pocket and pretending to scan the book.

Levet tilted his head. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just perfect." On an impulse, Charlie got up and headed quickly for the bathroom. He slammed the door and headed for the counter-sink, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. He clenched his quivering hands. Dry reality hit him, and hit him hard. He bent over the sink. And cried.

He had two weeks to break a heart all for membership in some gang he had gotten himself wrapped up in. Two weeks to ruin a happy life, or face dire consequences.

And then he thought about running. He was already in Australia, so why not?

After that Manson came to his mind and he wasn't so sure. He didn't know much about Manson, but that was because the people that did were either dead or twisted up in his tangle of threats, murder, and lies. He shivered, wiping his nose. He couldn't run. Then he would be dead for sure.

To ease his embroidered nerves, he pulled out his black baggie and turned away from the mirror.

After his fix he felt a considerable ease slide over him. He drifted from the bathroom and collapsed onto the bed, squinting in the brightness from the ceiling light. Levet was still clicking through channels, looking crestfallen.

"There's nothing on," he said after a while. Charlie thought he had spoken more to himself than to him, but he didn't really care. His head felt light as happy endorphins swam through him, the Heroin Monster satisfied.

"**Eh," Charlie slurred. "'Ey…go back to E. OY THAT'S ME!"**

**Levet gave him a strange look as Charlie moved up to the edge of the bed to watch the DriveSHAFT E True Hollywood Story. **

"**We were able to catch up with the two members of DriveSHAFT. Here's our interviews from 2000 with Liam Pace, the lead singer, and Charlie Pace, the bassist and songwriter," the host said with a completely scripted smile. **

**The TV cut to a twenty-three-year-old Charlie standing there, looking pleased and excited, next to a twenty-seven-year-old Liam, who looked about the same. **

"**So, I understand that you two started the band DriveSHAFT…why did you decide to start a band?" the interviewer asked.**

"**Well, it started out when Charlie and me got guitars for Christmas…I was thirteen, and he was nine—cheeky little kid he was too," Liam smirked.**

**TV-Charlie laughed. "Oh, like you can talk, git!" **

**Real-Charlie felt a pang of sadness go through him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been that happy, or when he'd joked like that.**

"**What's your favorite thing about the band?" **

**Liam laughed, grinning cheekily. "Erm, the fans. Fun. I'm single, and I like women, make sure to add that!"**

**TV-Charlie chuckled. **

"**What about you, Charlie?"**

"**It's all about the music," TV-Charlie answered, nodding. "That's all it'll be for me. I love to play my guitar and write songs—and if the band gets away from the music, there's not anything left, is there?"**

**Charlie turned away.** He was angry to find that his own words had come back to haunt him. He reached over and scraped the television remote from Levet's corner of the bed and pressed power just as the host had taken a deep, over-excited breath, as she was about to ask the next question. He glared at the blank screen, oblivious to the silence that had fallen around him.

"All about the music…" he whispered so quietly only he could hear. He felt an unexpected twinge behind his eyes and shook his head. "What a…a joke."

He couldn't help but feel miserable.

"Are you going to be ready for that Astrology thing this week?" Levet asked him, but Charlie pretended not to hear. He flipped over on his bed and held tight to the corners of his pillow. He wanted to punch himself. Or maybe he should go down to the help desk and have the big guy behind the counter lay one on him.

Charlie felt like dirt, but his eyelids were getting heavy. He closed them, falling into an uneasy sleep haunted by Manson and Fish-Face, circling around him inside his mind, taunting him. Far away he saw the glinting smile of the woman in the photograph. He felt as though someone had gripped his gut, twisted, and pulled. He felt guilty, angry, and confused.

_What am I doing here?_ He wondered just before the dream-like images faded away into darkness.

In the meantime, Levet stared at Charlie's back. He was tempted to reach for the remote and turn the interview back on – he had never seen the younger Charlie or heard of DriveSHAFT (but of course he would never tell Charlie himself that) – it was interesting to see, but he decided against it. It seemed that Charlie had finally fallen asleep.

Levet noticed with a frown that the book he had given Charlie on Astrology was lying on the ground. He reached down and picked it up, and decided to research for him. He wouldn't let him blow this – not when it was a matter of life or death.

* * *

**Charlie woke up in the morning, trying to keep that night's events out of his head. He noticed that Levet was asleep on the other bed, the Astrology book open on his chest, with one of his hands placed protectively over it. (A/N: Jaye: Okay, I had to do a peaceful-sleeping-Levet scene…from Meg-erm, Lils's description of him, he's cute. I HAD TO. ((Cheeky grin))) Charlie sighed, and then walked into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, took a look at his hair, decided that it looked brushed enough, and then walked back out and grabbed the room key. He bit his lip, looking from Levet to the door, shrugged, and walked out. **

**

* * *

**

**Levet woke slowly, less than twenty minutes after Charlie left. He yawned and sat up, the book falling off of his chest. The words "GEMINI—THE TWINS" flashed up at him. He looked around the room, still not fully awake. "Charlie?"**

**No response. "Charlie, you here?" he called again, starting to get worried. When he got no reply once again, he stood up, paling dramatically. Charlie had run. He knew it. He couldn't say he hadn't expected it, but he wasn't ready for it. Levet knew that Manson wouldn't touch Charlie if he didn't come back with results. It would be Liam, his wife, and the bubbly little girl that would pay the price. **

**And Levet couldn't let that happen.**

**

* * *

**

**Charlie sat downstairs in the breakfast area, drinking a Pepsi and staring down at his plate full of bacon and eggs and pancakes blankly. He couldn't get the smiling image of himself and Liam out of his head…couldn't get the words he'd spoken away from him. _All about the music. There's nothing without the music._**

**At that moment, he hated himself more than anything. Oh, he could be mad at Liam for getting him started, pushing him over the edge—but Liam was the one that ended up right, wasn't he? The one with the family, the life, the happiness. And Charlie had drugs, the gang, and the TV interviews come back to haunt him. Great.**

**He sighed, and was about to go and dump the rest of his food in the trash, when he heard the squeak of sneakers on the tiles of the dining hall. He looked over his shoulder to see Levet walk over to him, looking extremely relieved. **

"**Could've left a note," Levet said, shaking his head. "I thought you ran."**

**Charlie shrugged. He wouldn't admit to Levet just how much he'd thought of doing so. He probably already knew anyway. He tended to be sensitive towards things like that.**

"**Sorry," Charlie said shortly.**

"**No…it's…it's fine," Levet replied. "You just…scared me a bit." **

"Sorry." Charlie glanced back at the breakfast buffet. "Want somethin'?"

Levet shook his head. "Never much for, uh, hotel food."

Charlie nodded, understanding. And then a shout and a scream from across the room drew his attention. An old lady in a corner booth gasped as a brawny man marched past her, knocking her cup of coffee off her table and onto the carpet. Although Charlie could only see the back of the man, he thought he knew his walk: A sullen, sloppy gait with large steps and highly animated shoulders and arms. He gasped and said, "The bugger from the airport!"

"Sawyer, wait!" a woman shrieked. She came pouring into the room after him. Her voice was a high-pitched wail and she reached out for his back, her silk robe gliding behind her. "I said _wait_!" She finally reached him, and spun him around, gasping. "Where do you think you're going? You can't leave me here! We're in the middle of no where for Christ's sake!"

By now all of the breakfast room's occupants had stopped their eating to stare. Charlie looked on with distaste, gripping the table.

"I said _where do you think you're going_?"

"Back!" the man named Sawyer snapped, throwing her hands off of him.

"Why?" the woman cried, clearly hysterical. She was standing with her hip jutting out to one side, arms crossed, her make-up running down from her eyes. She didn't seem to care that she was the center of attention at the moment, even though many peoples' worst nightmares was to be caught naked – or nearly naked – in front of a crowd.

"Becu'z…" Sawyer grumbled.

"But I thought you said you had something to do here. _That's_ why I came to this _shithole _with you! How am I supposed to get back?" the woman was relentless, and Charlie was beginning to feel something courageous creep up inside him.

"Well I guess you're outta luck, Sticks."

"Wait just a minute!"

Charlie didn't know what came over him. One moment he was just sitting low at his table, unnoticed, and the next he was standing up, the limelight now shining down on his shoulders. He felt all eyes linger on him for a moment, and then switch back to the arguing couple, and then back to him once more.

Levet pulled on his sleeve.

"Char-lie…"

"Well look who it is!" Sawyer announced grandly, cracking a grin. Charlie scowled, clenching his fists. "You got somethin' ta' say, Mr. E channel?"

"You…you watched – "

"_Char-lie!_"

"Quiet, Levet," Charlie hissed, brushing him away. He turned back to Sawyer. "Yeh, yeh I do! You can't treat her like that!" He puffed out his chest, and expected the young woman to swoon and agree with him. Instead, she laughed.

"Don't try to act like a hero, kid," she said. "I've already got my brother for that." And then she put her arm around Sawyer, who grinned. "And don't worry about me." She kissed him.

When they were through, Sawyer gave Charlie a look.

"Got anythin' else you want to add?" he taunted.

**"Charlie!"**

"**Yeah—yeah, I do!" Charlie walked forward and punched Sawyer in the chin. Levet paled, and the blonde woman raised an eyebrow. **

"**You're gonna wish you ain't done that, Vh1," Sawyer snarled. He slugged Charlie in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards.**

**Charlie got back up, and shot, "You pansy!"**

**Sawyer shoved him onto the ground. Charlie kicked his legs out from under him, sending Sawyer sprawling onto the ground with him.**

"**Charlie! Stop!" Levet yelled. **

"**Don't tell me what to do!" As if to prove that Levet couldn't boss him around, Charlie stood up again, glaring down at the man. "Didn't your mum ever teach you how to treat a lady? You can't just leave that woman here with no way back—that's just wrong. She's near hysterics, and you're _yelling at her._ Learn some manners, git."**

**Sawyer got back to his feet, glaring at Charlie murderously. Levet stepped between them. "CUT IT OUT!"**

**Sawyer shoved the teenager out of the way. Levet stumbled, unable to regain his balance, and fell backwards. His head hit the back of the table with a sickening crack, and then he went limp. **

"**NO!" Charlie yelped in horror. Sawyer looked down at the unconscious Levet, watching as blood trickled down his neck, his eyes wide. "DON'T JUST STAND THERE! CALL THE HOSPITAL!" Charlie yelled at him, kneeling down next to Levet. **

"**Levet—Levet, can you hear me?" Charlie asked desperately. "Levet—Alec! Come on, mate, don't, don't die on me! Please, don't die…"**

**The blonde woman was no longer smiling, but was staring at Sawyer with large eyes as he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. "'Ello? Get down to this hotel—no, not the one in Canterbury, you idiot! The one in Sydney—LISTEN TO ME. THERE'S A KID DOWN HERE THAT'S HURT. GEDDOWN HERE NOW!"**

Charlie was breathing fast, his head spinning. All he could think of doing was setting Levet's body up from the floor, and decided to work from there. He reached up and fumbled around, groping the top of the table Alec had fallen against, and grabbed a handful of napkins. He then pressed the napkins against the kid's head, trying not to look at all of the hotel guests that were standing around him, staring. Some of them had their hands over their mouths, others were leaving, and still the majority of them were on their cell phones, talking rapidly.

"Don't die…oh…God, please!" Charlie dropped the bloodied napkins on the floor and ordered for more. This time, a lady in a red uniform came up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. She was just a young lady, no more than twenty, and she looked badly shaken. Charlie vaguely remembered her standing behind the breakfast counter when he had come down – no doubt she had seen the entire argument – but she handled herself well. Her voice was level even though her hands shook and she was deathly pale.

"We need to get him out to the front," she said. "That's where the – the ambulance'll be…come, I mean."

"Okay." Charlie nodded numbly. "Don't die…come on, man…"

And then, to Charlie's amazement, Levet opened his eyes and coughed. "Levet!" Charlie cried happily, but it seemed as though Levet wasn't all the way with him. The kid's eyes were out of focus as he gazed around.

"I'm not gonna die," he said stubbornly, so quietly Charlie could barely hear him, but the fact that he was talking filled him with relief. In the distance he heard sirens.

Together, he and the young woman supported Levet out of the breakfast room and into the main lobby, the two of them holding up his arms, half leading, half dragging him out in front of the help desk. By then, paramedics were rushing into the reception area, shouting for the other customers that had gathered to get back, and making a dash for Levet.

Charlie was shocked at how quickly Alec was pulled away from him. One second he could feel the kid's weight on his shoulder, and then the next, he was standing outside "the circle", the helpful hotel employee standing in a daze next to him. They watched in silence as Levet was loaded onto a stretcher and out the hotel doors, both of them numbly aware of the other's presence.

"Did you know him?"

"Levet?" Charlie was startled. "Yeah."

And then, a young man jogged up to him, dressed in hospital attire. He was tall, thin, with short dark hair, a lean face, and an abnormally composed expression. He looked Charlie directly in the eyes as he spoke.

"Excuse me, I'm a doctor. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Is he going to be alright?" the hotel lady asked. The doctor nodded, and turned his attention back to Charlie. He frowned for a moment at him, like he knew something, and then asked the question again.

"**Look, I got into a fight with the guy that called—Levet tried to stop it, got shoved out of the way by the other guy, and smacked his head against the bleedin' table!" Charlie paused. "…No pun intended."**

**The doctor nodded. "Do you need a ride to the hospital?" **

**A look of immense relief filled Charlie's face. "Yeah, y-yeah, I do. Thanks. I'm Charlie."**

"**Yeah, I know," the doctor nodded. "My wife made me watch E last night."**

"**Did _everyone _in the sodding country watch that?" Charlie asked, shaking his head miserably.**

**The doctor shook his head, smiling slightly. "I'm Doctor Sheppard."**

"**Okay."**

**

* * *

**

**After having gotten a ride to the hospital that Levet was currently resting in, Charlie sat in the waiting room, fidgeting nervously. Levet's words rang in his ears. "_I'm not gonna die." _**

**Levet was confident in that—Charlie knew. But he wasn't so sure. How could people know if they wouldn't die, anyway? Charlie sighed.**

"**Excuse me? Mr. Pace?" **

**Charlie looked up at the nurse. "Is he okay? Levet?"**

"**Well…" the nurse bit her lip. "He's awake. He's been asking for you. Stubborn thing he is."**

**Charlie nodded, smiling slightly. Yeah, that was Levet. The nurse led him back to the room. Levet grinned weakly at him. "Hey."**

"Hey."

Levet was sitting up, propped forward by at least four pillows. He had the remote to the television that was set up on the wall tucked under his limp hand. The current program had been interrupted by commercials – some body-builder woman flaunting her newly-sculpted abs and going on and on about the miracle of diet and "_This new, amazing, remarkable exercise machine!" _

Charlie walked further into the hospital room, upholding a smile that he hoped was laid-back and comforting.

"You look worried."

Charlie sighed.

"Yeah…well…you, uh, I thought – "

Levet tilted his head and grinned weakly. Charlie could tell he was tired, and didn't blame the kid.

" – You thought I was dead, didn't you?" he said, his dark brown hair falling over his eyes.

Charlie crossed his arms, trying to suppress a shiver that ran down his spine. He wondered how Levet could be so calm. He didn't say anything, so Levet kept on. "What happened after I fell?"

"Uh, well, after you, uh, fell…well…we called the hospital and – "

"No, I mean what happened to that son of a bitch?"

"Oh." Charlie felt a flare of hot anger. He felt a hollow pain in his chest where the man had hit him. "_That_ guy. I'm sure he's up to his ears in nightsticks, interrogations, and lawsuits. Maybe some pepper-spray, too. I hope anyway. I never actually saw if he, erm, got…well…anyway, I'm sure he's having fun down at the station right now."

All of this was a lie, of course. Charlie couldn't remember seeing the man after the guy had called the hospital. It made him furious to think about, but he and his girlfriend had probably run.

"You know you have to get out of here," Levet said suddenly.

"What?"

"The Astrology thing. It's today."

* * *

END OF CHAPTER!

* * *

Lils: Now review please!


	3. Chapter 3

Lils: BAH! ONLY TWO REVIEWS! and one from Jaye, which really doesn't count. Thanks to our one reviewer...but could we have a little bit more? it would make me very happy! I mean us!

* * *

**Chapter Three: What's your Sign?**

**The blonde woman sat down in the classroom, shrugging off her bag and grabbing her book on Astrology out of it. She winced as she bent down, the extra weight on her stomach pressing her painfully. "Gah, bloody…" **

"**Hello Claire," a wispy voice said. Claire looked up and smiled at the woman standing next to her chair. **

"**Good afternoon Mrs. Jentons," she smiled. **

"**Claire, dear, I've told you a million times—just call me Noel," Mrs. Jentons laughed. "So, how are you doing? And…?" She gestured towards Claire's swollen stomach. **

"**I'm good…Noel. And the baby…is good," Claire said slowly. Pain flashed across her eyes momentarily, but she blinked it away. She wouldn't think about how broken Thomas had left her. Wouldn't think about how she had to give up the baby because she couldn't support it. **

"**Don't worry, child," Noel said softly, sitting down. "You'll find someone to heal you—today, if the stars are right."**

**Claire smiled softly, shaking her head. "Thanks, Noel, but… Somehow I think maybe this once the stars could be wrong…"**

**No one was going to help the pregnant girl. No man in his right mind would go after a girl that had her condition. She would be alone forever.**

**The door opened, and a scruffy looking man stumbled in. He met her eyes, and Claire turned away, shivering at the obvious pain in his blue-gray eyes.**

"**Oh…hello. I don't believe I've seen you here before," Noel said, straightening up. "My name is Noel Jentons. And you are…?"**

"**Charlie," the man said, "just…just Charlie."**

**Noel raised a thin eyebrow. "Well…Charlie. Have a seat, if you will, the class will start in just a few minutes."**

**The man—Charlie—came and sat down beside her, looking at a book in his lap. The same book that Claire had. **

"**Hi," Claire said quietly. "I'm Claire. You look…really familiar for some reason."**

**Charlie sighed, "Once again: does everyone watch E channel?"**

**Claire laughed. "No—no it's not that. You look…I don't know. It's like I've seen you before, but I can't…can't place it."**

"**DriveSHAFT," Charlie replied, finally looking at her. "You heard of them?"**

"**Um. I don't think so."**

**Charlie grinned, seeming relieved. "You have no idea how great that is to hear."**

"**Why? What's DriveSHAFT?"**

"**The band I was in," Charlie replied. "Really big in the UK, but we split up."**

"**Ah. That's…too bad."**

Uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah. It is."

Claire checked her watch, impatient for the class to start so she could have something else to concentrate on. The man next to her seemed nice, but he smelled awful, and looked a mess. She knew he was just trying to be conversational, but it was uncomfortable. She wasn't sure what he wanted, but she knew he was edging toward something. And he wouldn't stop talking. Some people talked a lot when they were nervous.

"So…Claire…you, uh, really in to this Astrology?"

"Yes." Claire was looking at her stomach, wondering why the class hadn't started yet.

"Me too. Yeah. Astrology's great. All the, uh, stars."

"Mmm. Is there something you want?"

Claire turned and looked at the grungy little man next to her, who looked shocked, his mouth dry. For a moment she thought he might throw up, but then he grinned.

"Knowledge. I mean, who wouldn't want to learn about those Gemini's?"

Claire couldn't help but smile. There was something infectious about the way this man laughed, and he had seemed to calm down, to find his nerve, and so did she. Although he still smelled bad.

"Charlie, right?"

"That's me."

Claire nodded her head, and extended a hand. He shook it, their second introduction going much smoother than the first.

Then the lights in the room dimmed, and the lesson began. Claire was sucked in, hanging on the instructors every word, but she soon found herself distracted. Charlie was tapping gallingly on his book cover, his eyes wandering. Twice Claire elbowed him to get him to pay attention, but she soon found herself giggling at his antics.

"Quiet, you," she laughed, exasperated.

"What? Are you actually enjoying this?"

Claire folded her hands on her lap. "Yes," she said, defensively, "I am." She gazed at Charlie, who had rolled his eyes. "Hey, it's very useful."

"Useful?"

"Yes! If you know…someone's sign…and the signs in the stars…you can tell instantly about them."

For some reason, Charlie suddenly looked nervous. "What can you tell about me?" he asked quietly, but Claire never got to answer. In the front of the room, the teacher had paused, giving her a look.

"Now, if we can continue, you'll see this array here…"

Claire was interested again, taking notes, although she was constantly aware of Charlie's eyes, watching her. It was still uncomfortable, and she couldn't get the feeling that he wanted something more from her.

**The class finally ended, and Claire shoved her book and her notes back into her bag, and stood up slowly. She gasped and winced heavily. Charlie looked concerned. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned. **

"**Y-yeah," Claire whispered. "The baby…just, he just kicked…I wasn't expecting it, I'm—oh no…"**

"**What?"**

"**I forgot that I have my appointment today…my appointment with the baby's doctor…" Claire snatched up her things and started to hurry towards the exit. Charlie went after her. **

"**Do you need a ride?" he asked. "Is it just the Sydney hospital? Because if it is, I was going over there anyway…"**

"**Why?" **

"**My friend, Levet, he got hurt in a fight," Charlie explained, looking pained. "The fight this morning at the hotel…it was me and this man that was yelling at his girlfriend, making her hysterical, and Levet tried to stop it, and the man pushed him, and he kinda…kinda snapped his neck on one of the tables…why am I telling you this? I just met you…"**

"**Yeah," Claire laughed. "But that's okay…I have my car over here. I'll see you around, Charlie…"**

**He smiled at her as she turned and started to walk off. She turned around, seeing that he was trying to hail a cab. He was waving his hands in the air, looking like a total idiot. Claire giggled, and he turned towards her, losing his balance and falling on his butt.**

"**Are you—okay?" Claire gasped between laughs. "I'm—I'm sorry, I shouldn't—laugh…"**

"**Nah, it's fine," Charlie grinned, pulling himself up. "Don't worry—I get that a lot. I'm a bit klutzy…"**

**Claire pulled a pen and her small pocketbook out of her bag. She wrote down "Claire Littleton" and then her phone number. She handed it to him. He smiled, but looked a bit confused. **

"**Wasn't expecting that," he mused, raising an eyebrow.**

"**Well…you heard Noel. When Mars is in the Southern sky, Aries can get a bit too bold for their own good," Claire replied with a smirky grin. **

"**Yeah…" Charlie shook his head in disbelief. **

"**TAXI!" Claire shouted, sticking out a hand. An orange-yellow car pulled over. Claire smiled at Charlie, and then walked back to her car, giggling at his astounded look the whole way.**

* * *

Charlie watched Claire go, feeling completely and utterly lost. He stood on the curb, unaware that his taxi driver was yelling at him to get in or get lost. Finally he made himself look away from her back and climbed in the backseat. The taxi driver gave a long sigh and started the engine, but he didn't move.

At first Charlie was confused, but then he gasped and said, "Uh…the hospital. Yeah…sorry. It's not like you can read my mind…"

The driver huffed, clearly amused, and pulled away from the tall building the Astrology meeting had been held in, swerving around the parking lot at five under the speed limit, but Charlie didn't mind. He wasn't watching the meter.

A wave of mixed emotions collided with him, making his stomach jolt unpleasantly. He felt violently sick as he looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. He could almost hear Deloach laughing at him, egging him on. He had her number. She was falling for him…and he would have to break her heart.

She was _pregnant_ for Christ's sake! How could he hurt a pregnant woman?

He was so deep in his own troubling thoughts that he didn't notice when the taxi came to a stop. The taxi driver had to lean back and tap him on the leg, causing him to jump.

"Maybe you need to get some sleep, mate," the driver commented.

Charlie didn't say anything. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out just enough bills to cover the meter. No tip. This seemed to put the driver in a bad mood, and he sped off the second Charlie stepped out of the door, not seeming to mind that the door wasn't closed all the way, or that he had nearly ran over the curb. But Charlie was in too much of a daze to care.

He walked right up to the hospital doors and wondered if he shouldn't get a room – he felt so sick he could barely stand, let alone walk. He stepped into the elevator, planning to sneak in a quick fix, but then a familiar voice from down the hall cried, "Hold the elevator!"

Doctor Sheppard jumped into the elevator at the last moment; his hospital robes askew, his forehead very sweaty. When he saw Charlie, he frowned.

"Charlie, right?"

Charlie nodded.

"You don't look too good, are you feeling alright?"

"Fine," Charlie snapped, annoyed. He didn't feel like a check-up at the moment. The doctor smiled, thinking maybe the same thing the taxi driver had.

"Been up all night?"

"I'm _fine_."

"Going to visit your friend?"

"Yeah." Charlie had slumped against the wall, feeling the cool mirrored surface vibrate.

"He's, uh…I want to say stubborn."

"Yeah. I know."

The elevator beeped. Doctor Sheppard jumped out, waved good-bye, and hurried out of site down the opposite hall. Charlie turned and made his way to Levet's room, slumping against the door once it shut behind him.

Alec was sitting up again, staring dully at the television screen. He perked up when he saw Charlie.

"How did it go? Hey…are you okay?"

"**It went fine…better than fine…no I'm not really that okay," Charlie finished softly. He sat down and leaned forward. "I got her phone number. Levet, I can't do this…she was so sweet. She couldn't have done anything to that man to deserve this…and she's pregnant, Levet, I can't do this to her…"**

"**But you have to," Levet said firmly, burning a hole into Charlie with his eyes.**

"**But I _can't!_" Charlie whisper-yelled. "I can't do this! I don't even know why I got messed up in all of this! Stupid bleeding drugs are ruining my life—no, not mine: innocent girls who don't deserve things like that to happen to them!" **

Levet gave him a look that plainly said, "I'm trying not to say I told you so".

"**What're you watchin' anyway?" Charlie asked, hearing strangely familiar voices coming from the screen.**

"**News," Levet said mournfully. "Nothing else on."**

"**This morning, a young man was taken to a hospital after having his spine almost broken in a fight in a hotel," the white-blonde reporter said in an Aussie accent. "Now, we have some first hand interviews with the witnesses…"**

**Charlie's mouth dried. "Oh, Mary Mother of God…they can't be serious…"**

**The blonde woman from the hotel was there, dabbing at her eyes. "That awful man just came up and punched my boyfriend!" she sniffled. "And then when the kid tried to stop him…he shoved him. I hope that stupid British guy gets thrown in jail!"**

"**WHAT!" Charlie yelped. "She's blaming ME? Her prat of a boyfriend was the one that shoved you, not me! That—hey, are you—Levet?"**

**Levet's eyes were closed, and he was pale. The beeping of the machines behind him started beeping frantically, as if they were screaming for help.**

"**Levet?" Charlie said slowly. He took in all of what was happening. "NURSE!" he yelled.**

* * *

**So now Charlie was back in the waiting room, back with his hands cradling his head. **

"**Charlie?"**

**He looked up slowly, but then sat up quickly when he noticed whom it was. "C-Claire!" **

"**Yeah…what…what's wrong?"**

"**My friend, Levet…he kinda isn't…doing as well as he was this morning," Charlie said softly. "He's in surgery now. They're not sure if…if…"**

**His voice cracked embarrassingly. Claire looked at him sadly, and sat down by him. **

"**You don't have to keep going if you…if you don't want to," she said.**

"No…that's…that's okay."

Charlie suddenly felt like he was about to burst. His mouth fell open, ready to spill everything to this woman alongside him. He wanted to say it all, to tell her his story, but for some reason, his voice died in his throat. He felt humiliated, like he had no right to even be sitting in the same room as her, and then he was frustrated. Why wouldn't Levet understand he couldn't do it? If Alec could only see her…be in his shoes, maybe then he would be able to comprehend his situation.

_Rotgut_, Charlie's mind hissed, and he couldn't help but agree. Then Claire was talking, and he decided he should listen.

" – sure you're gonna be okay?"

"Oh, oh yeah. I'm fine…o-okay, that is." Charlie knew he sounded like an idiot, and couldn't stand to look at her anymore. He stood up, hands on his hips, and pretended to look for something. He was relieved when he saw Doctor Sheppard rushing past.

"Excuse me, doctor?"

Sheppard stopped, annoyed at first, but then smiled at Charlie and Claire.

"What can I do for you, Charlie?" he asked, placing the clipboard he had been carrying under his arm, and the pen in the side of his mouth.

"Uh…" _Guess I should have decided what to say first_. "W-when will I be able to see him?"

"Alec?" Sheppard checked his clipboard. "He's still in the middle of surgery, Charlie."

"What's going on?"

Charlie had asked this question seven times already, and knew the answer pretty much by heart.

"Well, when he fell, one of his upper vertebra was snapped out of place, and just scarcely ruptured a nerve ending. That will really never heal, but he'll be okay after correctional…the real problem is that one of the main veins in the side of his neck was pinched. We didn't notice the problem at first because of all of the delicate nerve cords – we really didn't want to get in there just yet – until the blood clotted, cutting off blood supply to the brain.  
"It probably won't result in any brain damage, though, because the problem was recognized so quickly. Right now we have an excellent team, so there's really no need to worry, or ask the same question every time a nurse or a doctor goes by."

He raised an eyebrow. Charlie bit his lip, nodding. Behind him, Claire, who had been listening, stood up, placing a hand gentle hand on his shoulder. He jumped even though her touch was warm.

"You…wanna go to lunch?"

"I – "

"Sounds like a good idea," said Sheppard with the smallest hint of a grin and a wink at Claire. "You really should get some fresh air."

"But what if Le – "

"Alec will be fine, and his operation will last a few more hours, and still after that there is the recovery phase…" he gave Charlie a look. "Trust me. You have all the time in the world."

Charlie allowed himself to be led out by Doctor Sheppard and Claire, although he felt too sick to even think of food. He kept his eyes averted as they made their way to Claire's car, and said nothing when he got in and sat down, taking extra care to make sure his seat-belt was adjusted just right, even though he hadn't worn a seat-belt in at least twelve years.

"You know anywhere you want to go?" Claire asked him as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

"No," Charlie admitted, "I haven't been here for more than two days."

"That's fine. I know this really great Mexican place…you like Mexican food, right?"

In truth, Mexican gave Charlie a miserable time, but for some reason he agreed, feeling like he couldn't say no to her. For some reason he didn't want her to stop smiling.

"Great!" she said, and stepped on the gas.

The drive was short, and so was conversation. They would talk about some things for a few minutes, and then the conversation would slowly die away again before picking back up. They talked about dogs, about Sydney in general, and Claire asked some questions about Astrology that Charlie couldn't answer.

They soon arrived in a small lot facing a tiny little tan-colored building with large, colorful windows. Claire hopped from the car enthusiastically, and made it to the door before stopping, holding her stomach.

"What?" Charlie couldn't help but feel like he should be worried about her.

"It's the baby…he's kicking." She laughed weakly. Charlie opened the door for her, stepping into a blast of warm, jalapeno-smelling air and fiesta music. They made their way to a booth in the back, and Charlie picked up his menu, finding nothing appetizing. He felt as though he would never be able to eat again.

On a whim, he put his menu down and stared at the young woman across from him. How could he do this? He couldn't do it…he couldn't. After lunch he would go back to the hospital and tell Levet he was leaving.

"Anything look good – what?"

"Nothing…" Charlie put a hand under his nose, sniffing awkwardly. Claire laughed, and waved for the waiter.

Soon they had their food. Claire's plate was full of colorful rice and two burritos. She dug into it eagerly, and leaned back, making a face like she was in heaven. Charlie laughed and stuck his fork into the beans in the corner of his plate.

He decided not to think about this job for the moment and just enjoy her company.

"**So," Claire asked after a moment of stuffing their faces with gassy foods. "What's your sign?"**

"**Ehhhhh…"**

**Claire raised an eyebrow. "Not really into Astrology, are you?"**

**Charlie blushed. "Not really… I thought it looked interesting and so I tried it out."**

"**Well…what's your birthday?"**

"**December 8th," Charlie said promptly.**

"**So, you're a…Sagittarius." Claire thought for a moment, and then pulled the little book out of her bag. "Your horoscope for today… 'Don't do something that you will regret. It will haunt you for the rest of your life…if you don't do the regretful act, then you will meet the one that you will fall in love with.' Well, that's interesting."**

**Charlie looked bewildered, staring at the book with his mouth open.**

"You okay?" Claire asked him. It took Charlie a moment to recuperate, avoiding her question by picking up his fork and scooping a mouth-full of rice onto his tongue, chewing thoughtfully, staring at his plate.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"It matched, didn't it?"

"What?"

"I can tell. Your horoscope matched, didn't it? It's amazing how often that happens…" she leaned back, studying him. "So what was the, ah, 'regretful act'?"

Charlie was numbly aware that his mouth was hanging open, the words dead in his throat. But luckily he was rescued from his torment by the arrival of the check. He scooped it up quickly and paid and tipped the waitress. Claire was still looking at him, and he forced himself to meet her eyes.

"I had a great time today," he said. "It was nice to meet you, Claire."

"Yeah – I had a great time, that is – and…it was nice meeting you too, Charlie." There was a softness in her voice that made Charlie's stomach lurch.

"A-any chance I can, uh, I mean, we can have lunch again some time?"

"Sure. Definitely." Claire was nodding her head. "You have my number – "

"So I do!"

Charlie stood up and held the door open for her as they stepped into the parking lot.

"You want a ride back?" Claire asked.

"Nah, I don't want to put you out of your way. I'll take a cab," he replied.

"Oh, well…if you think you can catch one."

"Don't worry. I'll manage."

With that, they waved and parted, Claire making her slow way to her car, hand rested on her stomach, Charlie heading for the street. He felt his knees could give out at any minute, and could barely hold in his lunch on the way to the hospital. He knew he would have to tell Levet that he just _couldn't do it_…

**_You're pitiful, _he thought scornfully. _You tell yourself you won't fall for her, you'll get the job done—and what do you do? Fall for her quicker than you've ever fallen for anyone. Git._**

"**Taxi!" he said loudly. The cars kept passing. "Taxi! Come on, you ruddy cab, just pull the bloody 'ell over!"**

**No taxis would stop, and this time, Claire wasn't there to get one to pull over. Charlie sighed, and started the long walk back to the hospital.**

* * *

**END OF CHAPTER**

* * *

**Jaye: Woo, that was hard to write…this chappie was sad… In my opinion, at least. So yeah. Okay, I noticed that we have only SIX reviews—and two of them are from me. What's with that, people? C'mon, poke the button you know you want to…**

Lils: Jaye is right ((glares scornfully)) you should all be ashamed of yourselves! I mean it's not THAT hard, is it? To push a button and type a review…YOU'RE ALL LAZY!

Just kidding!

But seriously, we could use some reviews! Please! Please with…uh…what is it you people like? Anyway, the story is about to get a lot more interesting, but if you want an update, you have to review!


	4. Chapter 4

Lils: Well, here we are! Chapter four! Now we'll move on to a different perspective for a while! Hmm…now to reply to reviews:

Lil Aussie Alias Chick: ((falls to knees)) THANK YOU! I am so happy you reviewed! If you were here in person I would give you a hug and buy you a thousand lottery tickets!

XDom: Thanks…obviously Jaye thought that would be a nice twist…hmm…you know, out of boredom I checked up on my horoscope the other day and found that it matched pretty well too… … …

Dandan2300: Ahh! Glad you liked it! And sorry it took so long to update…school sucks, as we all know. And about the conversation…we'll see what we can do…

Laurenasbrufa: Interesting penname…and thanks for reviewing very much!

* * *

Chapter four: Not Quite Family Problems

Shannon Rutherford sat with her long tan legs hanging over the edge of the bed, bare toes just brushing the floor, which was covered with stained carpet and smelled of alcohol. Behind her, lying seemingly asleep on the bed was a man with long, shaggy blonde hair, broad facial features (including a bruise on his chin,) and a strapping bronze body. Shannon glanced at him, and then back at the television set in front of her. It was blank. She picked up the remote.

The default channel just happened to be the news. Shannon stared dully at the two reporters, a man and a woman, each of them looking perky with cups of coffee just inches from their hands.

"And that's all we have on that…more updates…well, as soon as we get them in!"

The woman reporter seemed to be done. She reached for her coffee. Shannon rolled her eyes, tempted to try the remote again, see if there was something better on. But then, _behold_, the man reporter put on an urgent face and said the magic attention-catching phrase of all reporters: "This just in!"

"Yeah I'm sure," she muttered, but set the remote down.

"It seems an alert has just been sent out for a criminal on the run."

The screen zoomed away from the pair of reporters, replacing the redhead reporter-woman with a blue screen with a large blown-up picture in the top corner. The picture was that of a young woman. Her face was shrouded with long dark locks, her eyes glinting just behind a stubborn curl.

"Kate Austen," said the correspondent, "has been suspected to be hiding out somewhere in Australia, wanted for several bank heists in several countries, along with multiple murder charges. Whereabouts are unknown, but if you have any information, please call our information hotline. It is vital to authorities…"

_Blah, blah, blah, _Shannon thought. "See, Sawyer? You're not the only criminal on the run."

The man behind her stirred, grumbling.

"What was that?" he said, his temper boiling instantly; she could hear it in his voice; see it in his eyes.

"Never mind."

"No, you said I'm the only criminal runnin' around here."

"Not anymore, you aren't." Shannon crossed her arms, and decided smartly that she wasn't in the mood to fight, so she struck up another subject. "Anyway…do you think the cops have gone after that little punk in the hotel yet?"

At this, Sawyer's scowl etched deeper into his face.

"Oh, so you wanna talk about that, do ya?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Shannon stared at him.

"I told you not to talk to that paparazzi," he snapped. "People saw what happened."

"I thought you said – "

"But don't you worry your pretty little head, Sticks," Sawyer went on like she hadn't spoken. Shannon felt her cheeks getting hot with anger. "We all know how much you like the fame. Get your face on TV; maybe earn yourself a movie career. I know the type."

Shannon glared daggers at him, wanting now more than ever to hit him. She glowered at his face, at his smug little grin. She hated the way he always had to be dominating, even if it meant being annoying as hell. But…ah…screw it, she decided. He was sexy that way.

"So what?" she whispered.

"So," he laughed, "what do you think's gonna happen once people come out with the real story?"

"Since when have you cared?" Shannon crawled toward him, but just as she reached him, her cell phone rang. "Shit."

She scrambled off the bed and ran for her purse, found her phone, and flipped it open. She groaned when she saw the number and name posted underneath it: Carlyle.

**She considered not answering it…but she knew he wouldn't leave her alone until she did. She hit talk. "What?"**

"**Shan—"**

"**Boone, I don't want to talk to you right now, so just shut up," Shannon shot angrily. **

"**Shannon, why don't _you _shut up and let me finish?" Her stepbrother, Boone, replied in an infuriatingly anger-free voice. **

"Fine." Shannon shifted her weight from one long tan leg to the other, sighing and tucking her short blonde hair behind her ears. "What do you want, Boone?"

"Watched the news, lately?"

Instantly she felt her face get hot. "You're here?" she shot, accusingly.

"No."

"Well how do you –?"

"When someone from a boy band gets hit, you usually hear about it, Shan." His voice became suddenly harsh. "What are you doing in Australia? And how did you get involved in something stupid – again?"

"I don't have time for this!" Shannon yelled, her eyes filling up involuntarily with salty tears. "You don't have any right to be in my business."

"Oh I think I have every right to know why you're – "

"No, you _don't_!"

"Shannon, do you need help? Do you need me to come down there?"

"_No!_" Shannon took a deep breath.

Over on the bed, Sawyer had sat up, and was looking at her with an annoyed expression.

"Listen, just shut up Boone, okay? I don't need hel-anything, okay? So just…"

"What's going on?" Sawyer growled.

"Who was that?" Boone had obviously heard Sawyer's gruff, drunken voice. "Shannon, who's there with you? Is it still the guy that hit the boy band guy?"

Shannon let her cell phone drop from her ear, fighting the wave of emotion that was coming over her. The cell phone was still calling her name.

"I said, what's going on, Sticks? Is there a problem?"

"**No," Shannon said bluntly, looking away.**

**Sawyer glared at her, and then snatched up the phone. "Hello…No, I won't, son…I'll do what I want…fine, here she is…"**

**_Click. _Sawyer snapped the phone shut. Shannon held her breath. She closed her eyes and counted… Five…four…three…two…one. _Ring, ring, ring…_**She reached for the phone again, but Sawyer batted her hand away.

"Don't answer it," he snarled.

"You're drunk," she replied, coughing up a sob.

"And you're not?"

Shannon glowered at him, and then snatched up the phone, taking off for the bathroom. She heard Sawyer yelling after her, locked the door, and fell back onto the toilet seat, gasping as her bottom slipped through. In her mind she cursed Sawyer for not putting down the seat _again…_and then flipped her phone open, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

Boone was already yelling before she could even say hello. Not that she had been planning on it…

"Who is this? Shannon? Where's Shannon? I'm telling you right now it will only take me a day to get down there and bust your – "

"Boone!" Shannon's hands were shaking.

"Shan?" Instant concern. "Shannon, are you alright? Who was that guy? Shannon? Hello?"

Shannon sat and listened to his voice for what seemed like hours. She looked over her shoulder and stared at her reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing herself with all of her dark makeup and hollow eyes.

"Boone." She whispered his name.

"What? You need to talk to me. Are you hurt?"

"Boone." She closed her eyes as she said it, finding a strange comfort.

"What?"

Shannon glanced at the bathroom door, scared to open it. Then she remembered something Boone had told her when she was little. If she were ever scared, he would come for her.

I…I'm scared… 

"Shannon? Are you there?"

"**Boone…" A strangled sob came out of her throat. She turned the sinks on as high as they could go, blocking out Sawyer, and making it so that Sawyer couldn't hear her. "I'm scared."**

"**I'll be there tomorrow, Shan," Boone vowed. "Just stay where you are…I'll come for you, all right? I'll come for you."**

"**I know you will," Shannon whispered. The phone line went dead, and she set her cell on the edge of the bathtub. She put her head in her hands and sobbed, wondering how she'd gotten into this mess, and, for some reason, if that kid from the hotel was okay.

* * *

**

"**I need a plane ticket to Sydney," Boone said, determined. **

"**Sir, I'm sorry, but the plane is almost full—"**

**Boone pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and shoved it at the man behind the counter at the airport. "Does this loosen up a seat?"**

**The man, Steve, if his nametag was correct, eyed the money greedily, hit a few keys, and then said, "Seat 14B, Flight 194. It leaves in half an hour." He snatched the money from Boone. **

**As Boone hauled his bag to the luggage check, he couldn't help but smugly think, _never underestimate the power of cash. _**

His plane was boarded quickly, or so it felt; he was the last one to take his seat next to an older couple. He watched dully as the man gave the woman his ring, although for what he didn't understand, and decided he wasn't interested.

He was too worried about Shannon. **Sure, she'd gotten herself into bad situations before, but she had never ever, in all the time Boone had known her, sounded that terrified. He drummed his fingers against the seat, sighing. **

"**You all right, son?" **

**Boone's eyes slid over to the row next to his, where a bald old man sat, gazing at him. "Fine," Boone said shortly.**

"**Not to be rude, but you don't look fine," the man said. **

Boone looked at him curiously. "Why do you say?" he asked.

"Well…" the bald man moved his arms slightly, gesturing a shrug. "I don't know…maybe it's the worried look on your face, or the way you've been muttering this whole time."

"I haven't been – " Boone paused, and then caught himself smiling. The bald guy laughed, extending a hand across the aisle.

"John Locke," he introduced himself. Boone took his hand unsurely, thinking there was something peculiar about this man, but not being able to place it.

"Boone Carlyle," he replied, as brightly as he could manage.

"So, Mr. Carlyle, why are you going off to Australia?"

"Erm…it's my, uh, sister." Boone began to feel uncomfortable, although he supposed he was just overacting – this guy was just trying to be friendly, that's all.

"**Ah," Locke said softly, nodding sympathetically. "I had a sister. A foster sister…Jeanie."**

**Boone nodded slowly, then pulled _Watership Down _out of his bag, hoping to ignore the strange old man.

* * *

**

**Shannon was still in the bathroom, leaning against the wall, and sitting on the floor. Sawyer had given up yelling at her about an hour earlier, but she was still too scared to come face to face with him before Boone got there…she hadn't been scared of him before…before what happened in the hotel. Before he hurt that kid that was just trying to help. And the more Shannon dwelt on it, the more she came to realize that it was her fault if that innocent, courageous young man died. If she hadn't started yelling at Sawyer, if she hadn't gotten that E channel guy's attention, if she hadn't…**

**_But you DID,_ her conscious snapped.**

**Shannon sighed and shifted positions, as her foot was asleep. She shut her eyes and hoped to sleep until Boone came, and once again, saved her (arse).

* * *

**

**Boone stepped out of the airport and hailed a taxi in a way only a city-boy could.** He threw his bag into the backseat and jumped into the front passenger seat, beside a Hispanic driver with large eyes, dark skin, and thick black stubble.

"Make a round," he said, and the driver nodded as Boone pulled out his cell phone. He flipped it open and waited irritably as the screen displayed the "Searching for Signal" prompt. The driver pulled around the airport, waiting for instruction. Boone began to feel embarrassed, but finally his phone entered said service area, and he dialed and held the number one. In no time at all he was listening to his own phone ring. Once, twice, three times, and then Shannon answered him.

"Where are you?"

"The airport. Where are you?"

He heard a sigh and some shuffling, a loud _clank_ and a curse.

"Motel. East side of town." Shannon then proceeded to give him an address, which he repeated to the taxi driver, who nodded and exited the airport – or at least, tried to; a Hertz bus cut him off and thus Boone had to endure much cursing in Spanish…but finally they were out on the highway, Boone leaning back against his headrest, suddenly exhausted.

"Boone?"

"I'm here," he replied stifling a yawn. "Who is this guy, Shan?"

"His name's Sawyer."

"And you believe that?" he scoffed, glaring at the back of the bus.

"I don't know."

Suddenly Shannon sounded like the little girl she had been when he had first met her. "Just hurry, okay? And be careful."

"Yeah…" Boone wasn't sure how to carry on the conversation, or if he even should. Finally, he flipped his phone shut without a good-bye, but he didn't feel too guilty. In fact, now he felt mad. She didn't have the right to make him come all the way down to Australia – or anywhere for that matter – every time she screwed up.

"Trouble?"

Boone looked at the driver, startled. The Hispanic man grinned at him, and laughed, his voice thickly accented.

"Do not worry, I get it all the time!"

Despite himself, Boone felt a ghost of a smile touch his lips. He rolled down the window and inhaled the foreign air. It smelled fresh, and for a time, the sky was open. But withered trees and neon signs soon replaced it as he entered the back part of the city.

After about an hour's worth of driving, the driver stopped in the lot of a beat-down looking motel. Boone got out, grabbed his bags, and tossed his money threw the window.

_"El adiós, mi amigo. ¡Y la buena suerte¡Estoy seguro que usted lo estará necesitando!_" ("Good-bye, my friend. And the good luck! I am sure that you will be needing it!")

_"Gracias. Y tomaré esa suerte."_ (Thanks. And I'll take that luck.) Boone gave the man a wave. He laughed heartily and drove off, leaving Boone standing alone with his duffle bag, facing the windows of the motel.

Inhaling deeply as if he was just about to dive underwater, he headed for the main entrance, stepping smoothly through the sliding doors and into the lobby. He asked the woman at the front desk for a Shannon Rutherford, and came up with a Shannon Smith and Sawyer Smith, and went for it.

"Thanks," he muttered to the stout, gray-haired woman, and shouldered his bag, heading down the hallway.

He didn't have to walk far – the motel wasn't very large, and "Shannon Smith" was located on the first floor – before he ended up in front of the door. He raised his fist and knocked firmly. He noted the door was unlocked.

"Get outta here!" shouted a gruff voice from within the room. Boone reached for the handle and pushed the door open, coming nearly face-to-face with a tall, shockingly well-built but not so well shaved man with long blonde hair. He looked like he needed a shower and some sleep, and he smelled of alcohol. In fact, the whole room did.

"Where's Shannon?" he asked firmly.

**The man glared at him murderously. Boone stood his ground. "Where's my sister?"**

**From the bathroom, Shannon heard Boone's voice, and almost sobbed with relief. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her bag of toiletries—including her nail polish, make-up, and inhalers—and opened the door. "Boone!" she cried. **

"**Stay where you are, Sticks," Sawyer growled.**

"**Don't listen to him, Shan, c'mere and I'll get you out of here," Boone said, a pleading look in his eyes.**

"And who the _hell _do you think you are?" came Sawyer's agitated scream. Horror suddenly flashed in Shannon's eyes. She saw her brother lying on the ground…just like…just like that kid in the hotel. Tears leaked out of her eyes.

"SAWYER STOP!" she screamed, dashing forward and grabbing his arm. He was strong and shook her off once, but she just jumped back on him, screaming, "STOP! STOP! STOP!"

"GET OFFA ME!" Sawyer roared.

"Shannon!"

Shannon heard her brother's voice cut through the noise and violence. _Boone…_

"Shannon!" Boone ran forward, catching Sawyer around the middle. Shannon screamed as she went down, digging her nails into Sawyer's arm. He howled as Boone tackled him. She tried to sit up…but suddenly she felt a splitting pain set through her abdomen. She tried to breathe and couldn't.

The air came half way up, stopping in her throat. She felt dry and horribly exposed then, choking on the air she couldn't swallow or let go of. Her lungs burned. She couldn't breathe. _I CAN'T BREATHE!_

"Shannon?" Boone's voice was quiet and close, very close. She could feel him lying over her, calling in her ear. But the pain was so bad…she couldn't think. Couldn't make herself take in air. Air. _Air!_

"**Shan? Shan are you—oh, God, are you having an attack?" **

**Dry wheezes were his only response. Shannon saw dark around the edges of her vision, clouding around her, whispering for her to let go. **

"**Where's your inhaler?" Boone's face flashed in front of her, filled with fear, concern, and determination. **

**Shannon managed to lift her bag weakly before her arm dropped back down. Sawyer had grabbed his things and stormed out, most likely because he knew that Boone would call the cops on him.**

"**It's going to be okay, Shan, alright? You need to calm down—he's gone, I'm here, you're safe. Got it? Now, come on, you can do this…just hold on…"**

**Shannon tasted the cool plastic of the inhaler touch her lips. And then, the glorious feeling of air returning to her. She gasped in the warm air of the hotel room, and the darkness ebbed away, until she could see everything perfectly again. **

"**You okay now?" Boone asked her.**

**Shannon sobbed and threw her arms around her stepbrother's neck. "Boone…"**

**Boone wrapped his strong arms around her, and whispered, "Everything's going to be fine, Shannon… Don't worry…"

* * *

**

Boone helped carry Shannon's things to the cab he had hailed. It sat waiting with an open trunk in the parking lot. He grunted; Shannon had a lot of stuff. But it was okay. He smiled at her as he passed with the last of the luggage, and then they both crammed into the backseat, Shannon turning to face the window, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Do we have to go home?" she whispered.

"Of course we have to go home!" Boone retorted. "You weren't gonna stay here, were you?"

She didn't answer for a long time. "I wonder where he went…"

Boone sighed in frustration.

"No one-night-stand is worth _that_," he said. Shannon whipped around, glaring at him.

"It wasn't like that!" she said defensively. "We were together in – "

" – The first hotel you got kicked out of, I know," Boone finished for her, turning his back and glaring out the window. Just as the cab was pulling out of the parking lot, he spotted two men leaning against a traffic light post that marked the entrance to the motel lot. A shiver ran down his spine; he didn't like the look of them.

One was tall with the starting of a beard and sunglasses. His skin was oddly hard looking, and darkly tanned. His brawny shoulders were hunched, hands in his pockets. The other man he stood next to was much shorter and very skinny and pale, with greasy-looking hair and tight skin stretched along his white face. He had weird lips, Boone noted, reminding him of the fish in his twelve-year-old fish tank; how they would press their lips against the glass.

And then they were gone as the cab turned the corner.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

* * *

Lils: AHHHHHHHHHH! REVIEW NOW!

Sawyer: Shaddup! I have a headache!

Lils: Of course you do. You had a hard time this chapter.

Sawyer: I did not.

Lils: You had everything under control, right?

Sawyer: 'Course I did! Now stop yellin!

Lils: I'm not yelling!

Sawyer: You just did!

Lils: That was you!

Sawyer: I - ! (fumes)

Lils: Hee. I win. Now I'm going to jabber in spanish! _sé una canción eso se monta todos nervios!_

Sawyer: Just shut up! You're a nightmare! And what did you say, anyway?

Lils: I KNOW A SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYBODY'S NERVES! And i won't shut up until people review!

Sawyer: WELL THEN PLEASE REVIEW PEOPLE!

Lils: Yes – REVIEW SO SAWYER'S HEADACHE CAN GO AWAY! That or he'll just go get some aspirin – if he were smart – which he's not, the southern idiot.

Sawyer: WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?

Lils: A SOUTHERN IDIOT SO THERE! MEEH! _Estúpido imbécil._


End file.
